He raised his head. Tears were streaming down his face.
“It wasn’t because I didn’t want you to see yourself,” he said. “I couldn’t stand to see myself.”
I looked at the empty space on the wall where our large mirror had hung only hours before.
For eight years, I had believed my husband was the only person who saw me as beautiful.
In reality, he had been one of the first people who convinced me that I was ugly.
“When I saw you in that café years later, I recognized you immediately,” he continued. “At first, I approached you because I wanted to apologize. But I was afraid. Then I fell in love with you. I wanted to tell you every day, but the happier you became, the more terrified I was of losing you.”
“You wouldn’t have lost me because of the truth,” I
